“No! But, you’re goblins! It’s what you do! I mean, if you don’t want to fight, what do you want?”
“I don’t wanna fight!”
“Want shinies!”
“Want yummies!”
“Yummy yummy squi- errk!”
“Want… um, want… surrender!” First Mate seemed very taken with this idea. “Parley!”
[Save the Storm Drains: Quest update!]
[Optional objective: Grant the Goblins Mercy]
“Voice?” I whispered, under my breath. “What am I supposed to do?”
I waved my dagger at the goblins again. “Ok, you lot. First off, stand up. I can’t hardly understand you, blubbering into the mud.”
They did, performing the strange trick with their hips, where the legs rotated from splayed out to the sides, like a lizard, to centered underneath them, like a bird.
“Alright.” I told them. “Why should I let you live?”
They blinked at me for a moment, as if bewildered by the word “why”.
Finally First Mate spoke. “Umm, all hail New Boss?” The others broke into cheers.
“Mighty New Boss!”
“Shiny, shiny hair!”
“Parley!”
I sighed. “Fine, you’re all… you’re on sufferance, right now. And you have to answer my questions!”
“I don’t wanna answ—errk!”
“Yes, yes!” agreed First Mate. “All questions!”
“Right. So, are there any more traps like this one?” The goblins stared at me in incomprehension. I pulled out my map and showed it to them. “How many more sections of the sewer are unsafe? Where?”
More blinking, while they ogled the map. The littlest one tried to lick it. I got impatient and pointed my dagger at one. “You’d better tell me, or I’ll gut you too!”
At this they went from restive to terrified, and began kowtowing again and wailing.
“Not that question!” cried First Mate. “Any question but that one! No traps on squishy…” It peered at the paper in my hand “…dead leaf?”
“Fine. Can you show me where else you’ve dug traps?”
“New Boss want trap dug?”
“No! I don’t want you to rebuild the trap, I want you to find me more traps!”
“I don’t wanna dig traps! Traps hard!”
“No more digging!”
“Mercy, Shiny New Boss!”
“Trap is dead. Dead, dead trap!”
I pulled at my shiny hair in frustration. “Fine!” I said again. “In that case, what’s the nearest way out of here? To the surface, I mean.”
First Mate pointed.
“Uh uh. No way am I leaving you behind me. You go first!”
The goblins shuffled their feet and fidgeted, but did not go. Finally First Mate looked over at the body of the dead goblin.
“Uhm.” he said “New Boss going to eat Big Boss, err, Old Boss now?”
“Ugh. No.” I supposed I ought to go loot the body, but I didn’t even want the money bad enough to do that right now. I just wanted out of here.
First Mate shuffled his feet some more.
“Waste not, want not.” grumbled Smart Mouth.
Understanding finally dawned. “You guys want to eat, err, Old Boss?”
They cried in delight.
“Merciful New Boss!”
“Bestest New Boss!”
“All hail New Boss, same…” Smart Mouth stopped before First Mate could kick him. “…better than Old Boss!”
“Wait.” I told them. I went over and cut off the last eight inches of Old Boss’s tail. “Ok, you guys can have him now.”
The goblins fell on the body with snarls of glee, ripping at the glistening organs and crunching bones in their myriad of teeth.
“Yummy yummy Old Boss!”
“My guts! Mine! You have foot!”
“Parley!”
There was a brief tussle between First Mate and Smart Mouth for the bone necklace. I think Smart Mouth won. Don’t Wanna just stuffed his face full of anything he could snatch. Then, more quickly than I would have imagined, it was over, and there was nothing left of Old Boss but a stain in the water. The goblins, their bellies distended, rolled over in the muck, sighing and grunting in satisfaction.
“Yummy yummy…”
Don’t Wanna, now looking rather like an upside down bowling ball with limbs, began floating away down the soft current.
“Hey, dinner’s over. Now you show me how to get to the surface.” I told them, waving my dagger for emphasis.
The goblins rolled to their feet and began hopping down the left tunnel. Warily, I followed them. They bickered and argued amongst themselves, but made no further mischief, and eventually we came to a very narrow, vertical drain. Grey daylight filtered in from above. I had found a way out.
Voice said, uncertainly,
“You mean kill them?”
At this, the goblins cowered again.
“Mercy, mighty New Boss!”
“I don’t wanna die!”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t kill you, what’s to stop you lot from making more traps, and killing the repair crews who have to come down here?”
“No more traps!” pleaded First Mate. “Goblins be good now! No traps, no eating!”
“No more eating!” agreed Don’t Wanna. “Yucky squishy-skins! Yucky yucky!”
“Good goblins!” put in Smart Mouth. “Good, good goblins!” And then, inspired, “Yummy goblins!”
“Alright, listen up.” I put my daggers away. “This is how it’s going to work. If I let you live, you have to promise you wont eat any more people. No more yummy squishy-skins, got it?”
They nodded eagerly.
“Also, no more traps. The only reason people come in here and mess with you is because they have to repair the drains. And if they don’t do that, we all could die. So, from now on, you have to help any repair crews you see, ok?”
More nodding.
“Alright. Get out of here. And tell the other goblins what I said!”
The goblins hopped away, squabbling over which one got to wear the necklace. I turned back to the grey-lit drain. It was much too narrow to be an access tunnel; I suspected it drained one of the street level gutters above. Still, it was no trouble for me, halfling that I was. My waning torch was down to nothing but kindling, so I extinguished it the water at my feet, stored the stub away, and jumped for the skylight.
As I suspected, the drain came out at street level, into a very nice neighborhood. I stepped out from the small alleyway created by a human height wall which was not speaking to the windowless spire next to it. Tall marble temples rose around me, and well dressed people moved with purpose down the patterned, cobbled street. There was a huge line of worried and sometimes sick looking people leading to one of the side doors to the Great Temple. Commanding views of the city spread out below, and off to the side, I could glimpse the afternoon sea.
This must be Temple Hill.
At this time of the day, Temple Hill was already in the shadow of Mt. Temperament, though I could see better lit areas still around the Docks and the Harbor. Curious, I climbed the side of the spire next to me, and perched on a window ledge, surveying the city. Over there is City Market, and Outside Street. So, the outdoor amphitheater should be somewhere over there…
“Excuse me!” An annoyed man opened the window to the ledge I was sitting on. “Exactly what is your business here?”
“Umm, I was just headed home. Bye!” I jumped from the building, bounced off the street, and bounded my way back to La Baliene.
In the backyard, Marissa was finishing up laundry again. Primarily clothes and bedding this time, as the tablecloths had not seen use since the restaurant was shut down. I waved at her as I head
ed to the basement, but she looked up as I went past, sniffed, and a panicked look overcame her face.
“Uh uh uh!” she scolded me. “No no, you are not going inside in such a state! Into the tub with you, girl!”
I decided that from Marissa I didn’t mind being called “girl”, though the rest of the world should not consider the privilege extended to them. I obediently trotted over to the steaming tub of soapy water.
“Sami, what have you been doing?” The question must have been rhetorical, as she shooed me out of my clothes and into the bath without waiting for an answer. “Tsk, tsk! Such dirt! I have never seen the like!”
I relaxed into the steaming luxury while Marissa gave my muddy and bloody clothes the same stubborn look a mountain goat might give to a cliff that someone had decreed “unscaleable”. I ducked my head underwater and availed myself of the soap and a scrub brush. When I came back up for air, Marissa did a double take on my new hair.
“Well then.” she announced. “Sarah was not exaggerating! Here here girl, do you have anything else to wear?”
“In my room.”
Marissa pulled down a chef’s coat from the line, almost dry now after what must have been a sunny day. “Here, wear this inside, and I’ll clean your… usual… clothes. You’re not going adventuring any more, are you?” She gave my scabs and bruises a concerned look which left no uncertainty about the correct answer.
“I think I’ll take a day or two off.” I replied, echoing Voice’s advice that it was always preferable to start an adventure at full health and with a full belly.
Back down in my basement room, I exchanged the coat for the tattered blue dress. Sarah had opined that it was not the image I was probably going for, but I liked it because I could move in it. Anyway, badassitude comes from inside, not from your clothes.
I tended my wounds as best I could with my meager supplies (which mostly consisted of making sure I wasn’t going to bleed all over the kitchen floor), but my rumbling tummy soon drew me upstairs. Marissa had cleaned off my leather belt and pouches and set the contents to air dry on the counter, and was soaking the silks and backpack in the tub, which she occasionally prodded at with a long stick.
I helped myself to a tuna and zucchini turnover from the hidden stash and was about halfway through it when Marissa came back in, crossed her arms, and puffed up her chest at me. I stopped chewing, mouth hanging open in surprise. The effect was rather like watching the wind suddenly catch a sail; a sudden, overwhelming intimidation, and I backed down in spite of myself.
“What.” she demanded. “Are. Those?” She pointed imperiously at my scaly bounty, still almost wrapped in their skins.
“Oh, goblin tails.”
This was not, judging by the look of horror on her face, the right answer.
“Umm…” I tried again. “I’ll go get rid of them?”
Marissa seemed about to suggest a compromise of burning them immediately and burying the ashes when Isha came striding into the kitchen.
“Marissa!”
“Yes, chef?”
“Have you seen my whetstone….” His voice trailed off as his attention was arrested by something on the counter.
“Chef?”
He picked up the mangled remains of the blue collar, it’s gilded stitching unrevived by the laundering. “Where,” he asked, quietly, “did you find this?”
The turnover turned to ashes in my mouth, suddenly sticky and unswallowable. I looked miserably over at the goblin skins on the lawn. Isha followed my gaze.
“I see.” was all he said. Ishàmae reached under the counter, grabbed a well stoppered bottle of clear liquid, and strode from the room, as quickly and finally as he had come.
Marissa sighed. “He’s going to be useless for the rest of the night. I’ll tell Sarah not to come in. It’s kind of him to give us this work, even if La Baliene isn’t open, but everyone will have a better day if we just do it tomorrow.”
I had another go at swallowing the last bite of turnover, and partially succeeded. It only got stuck about halfway down my throat.
“Here here, child. This is not your fault.”
I nodded, swallowed again, and managed to speak. “Where is Sarah?” I asked, just to change the subject.
“She’s off trying to schedule her entrance exams for the University. It’s no simple process, even petitioning for admission. They don’t let just anyone take the exams.” Marissa sniffed in disapproval. “I don’t see why they have to make everything so difficult, but wizards, they’re so proud. Still,” she sighed again, “everyone has their dream to follow, and there won’t be a wizard as proud as me when my Sarah shows them all what she can do.”
I grabbed an empty grain sack from the pile by the door and bundled the goblin skins into it, then repacked my pouches and belt. The leather was still wet, but I wasn’t in the mood to wait around for it to dry.
My first stop was Miners’ Square. Hel was in her usual spot, but was talking to someone else, so I made my way to the barista, who was packing up for the day.
“So,” I asked, after the line had moved me forwards. “What does Hel like to drink best in the afternoons?” The barista grinned at me, and a couple of minutes later I was in possession of a mug of sweetened rose hip tea. I politely went and stood outside the peripheral range of Hel’s conversation, upwind.
She saw me, smelled the tea, and finished her conversation in a hurry. I approached, and without a word, handed her the steaming mug.
“Smart girl.” Hel said with a smile as she accepted the mug. I decided Hel was also old enough to call me girl and still keep all of her fingers.
After a minute spent appreciating the aroma, Hel opened her eyes and focused them on me. “You survived.” she commented. “When you didn’t return last night, I wondered.”
“Do many people not come back?” I asked, thinking of the dwarf skeleton.
“About half, really.”
My shock must have shown on my face.
Hel waved the mug at me. “It’s not as bad as that. We don’t really have a fifty percent mortality rate amongst adventurers, but quite a lot of them walk away from the job after one look down in the sewers, and they don’t usually stop by to tell us they aren’t going to complete the assignment. Others nod and smile and say yes, but then they go and take job offers from everyone willing to give them one, and by the time they get around to doing this one, they’ve lost interest and moved on with their lives. After a while you get used to it.”
I rustled around in my pouch and pulled out my map. “I didn’t do the whole thing.” I told Hel. “There were a lot more tunnels than I thought.”
Hel took ahold of my map like she expected it to bite her, and gave it a confounded look. “What did you do to this thing?”
“Umm. Well, like I said, some of the tunnels weren’t on there, so I marked them, like this one here…” I pointed to a smudge, “…and this is a cave-in. Oh yeah, there are at least two sections blocked off entirely. That why the map got wet. And also buried. The charcoal is because I didn’t have a pen, but the splinter kept pushing through the wet paper. Then this part has a trapped floor, well actually it doesn’t have a floor any more, but be careful of the rats. These parts have no more mushrooms, which is why I blacked them out. Sorry about the blood, it’s just that my torch was wet so I couldn’t reburn the stick I was using for a pencil…”
I trailed off under Hel’s incredulous stare.
“Great gods, girl, you didn’t have to be as thorough as all that. A quick scouting mission would have done.”
“But the goblins are collapsing the tunnels.” I told her. “That’s why I got trapped, and had to find a different way out.”
Hel looked back at the map and pulled on her face. “This is worse than we thought.” she said. “I’m going to have to send for one of the technicians to decipher this…” She gave the much bedraggled piece of paper a resigned look. “Can you come back tomorrow? If things are as bad as you say, your work d
eserves a real reward, but what I’m authorized to offer you right now is this.” She folded up the paper one handed, and neatly put it in her pocket, and then just as neatly withdrew a bag and handed it to me. “Take anything you like out of there. But only one, mind you, I’ve still got to pay the other scouts, if they ever show up.”
I opened the pouch and looked in. The inside was obscured, so I reached and grab something that felt like a pair of strings. I pulled them out of the shallow pouch; they were strangely heavy, and they kept coming… I pulled and pulled, and the small bag eventually disgorged an entire pair of boots by the laces. I stared at it in wonder. The boots were much heavier than the bag had been, even with them inside it.
This must be one of those pocket dimensions Ramsey was talking about.
Fascinated, I reached in again, and took out seven more objects: A steel helmet, a belt which was much too big for me, an ornate necklace, a shortbow, a quiver, another shortbow, and a bundle of arrows.
“Where did you get all this?” I asked Hel as I pulled it out, still amazed by the fact that it somehow managed to fit in the pouch.
She shrugged. “Mostly it’s stuff we’ve confiscated from criminals. Careful with anything that looks magic. Criminals can be kind of stupid, and I can’t vouch for the authenticity of anything unidentified.”
“You don’t identify this stuff?”
“Nope. Our wizards are overworked as it is, they don’t have the time. Also,” she gave me a conspiratorial wink, “sometimes a real treasure slips through, and it doesn’t hurt our reputation any if word gets around that working for the Watch just might get you something really rare. A guy last year picked up an old lamp which turned out to have a genie inside. They’re still talking about that one.”
I surveyed the stuff. The helmet looked uncomfortable, the belt was too big, and I didn’t know how to use the bows or arrows.
“Can I have the bag instead?” I asked Hel, hopefully. She laughed.
“No way! Bags of holding are worth their capacity in gold. I’ve had this one since my own adventuring days. Picked it up in... where the hell was I? Somewhere up in the Widowvale Mountains, I think. Took it off an ork chieftain.” She sipped her tea in reminiscence. “It was full of severed heads.”
A Fist Full of Sand: A Book of Cerulea (Sam's Song 1) Page 18